CastleVania 2000
by Andrew NDB
Summary: Julius Belmont never finished the job. It is the end of the year 2000, nearly New Year's Eve. After the CastleVania mysteriously rises in modern day Romania, Buffy, Blade, and Alucard must put the Count to rest once and for all before the new millennium.
1. Foreword

**"CastleVania 2000"  
A Foreword**

**A Vampyre Slayer Guide to the Legend of CastleVania  
Compiled & Written by Rupert Giles, Watcher**

**A Note** :  
My friends and colleagues among the Society, gentlemen, I hope this documentation reaches you in good health, for there is much to cover and little time within which to do it. In these pages I will be asking you to accept the unacceptable and believe the unbelievable. As you can see by this documentation's rather bold title, I want to go over the Legend of CastleVania — it's for a good reason I can readily assure you, but let me get to that.

As a good starting point, let me ask you to first accept the 1897 novel Dracula, written by Bram Stoker, as more or less a legitimate telling of real events and real people. Absurd? Cross-reference the Roumanian translation of the Legend of CastleVania and you will see the connection in the chronological events relevant to Dracula's frequent revivals, to say nothing of the historical documentation, birth records, death certificates, and even dental records that verify that at least ninety-percent of the characters in the novel lived.

"_In his life, his living life, he go over the Turkey frontier and attack his enemy on his own ground; he be beaten back, but did he stay? No! He come again, and again, and again. Look at his persistence and endurance. With the child-brain that was to him he have long since conceive the idea of coming to a great city. What does he do? He find out the place of all the world most of promise for him. Then he deliberately set himself down to prepare for the task. He find in patience just how is his strength, and what are his powers. He study new tongues. He learn new social life; new environment of old ways, the politic, the law, the finance, the science, the habit of a new land and a new people who have come to be since he was. His glimpse that he have had, whet his appetite only and enkeen his desire. Nay, it help him to grow as to his brain; for it all prove to him how right he was at the first in his surmises. He have done this alone; all alone! from a ruin tomb in a forgotten land. What more may he not do when the greater world of thought is open to him. He that can smile at death, as we know him; who can flourish in the midst of diseases that kill off whole peoples. Oh, if such an one was to come from God, and not the Devil, what a force for good might he not be in this old world of ours."  
_- Dr. Abraham Van Helsing, Bram Stoker's _Dracula _novel, 1897, pg(s) 308 - 309

**I. Prince Dracula, In Life**

Dracula's full name is Vlad Draculea the Third, also known as Vlad Tepes (pronounced _Tse-pesh)._ Dracula/Draculea (variant spellings, Draculea being the truer Romanian spelling) means "Son of the Dragon," as "Dracul" means "Dragon" and the "a" signifies the "offspring of." As his father's name was Vlad Dracul, that is where "Dracula" is derived from. There is controversy over whether "Dracul" means "Dragon" or actually "Devil," as the two words are basically synonymous in Romania. "Tepes" translated as simply "The Impaler," a name for which Vlad Dracula III earned in tribute to/fear of his preferred method of killing an enemy.

Born in in the Transylvanian town of Sighisoara/Schassburg in 1431 to Vlad Dracul II ("Vlad the Great") of the Order of the Dragon and Princess Cneajna, Vlad Dracula III was (by default when his older brother Mircea was killed) heir to his father's throne in Wallachia and a _voivode_ (warlord prince/governor) who joined the Order of the Dragon, an order founded by the Holy Roman Emperor in 1387 for the objectives of protecting the German king, defending Catholicism against the partisans of Jan Hus and other heretics, and crusading against the infidel Ottoman Turks. His father preceded him as a member of the order.

For the sake of Wallachia's safety, Vlad Dracula III's father turned he and his brother over to the Turks, the mortal enemies of his family and country. In late 1447, both Prince Vlad Dracul II and Mircea Dracula, Vlad III's older brother, broke their pact with the Turkish Sultan and were caught and assassinated in marshes near Bucharest. Vlad Dracula was eventually allowed to claim power in Wallachia in 1448 after both his father and older brother Mircea were slain, but the ill-prepared Dracula was soon overthrown. His mind set on vengeance and his heart pumping with rage in the aftermath, Vlad returned to Wallachia in 1456 with the support of Hungary, claimed his birthright, and showed his enemies no mercy in a reign that lasted until 1462. Taking up the ruthless practice of impaling his enemies (for which he will always be known historically as "Vlad the Impaler"; Vlad Tepes), he decorated his entire courtyard with hundreds upon hundreds of long stakes, an impaled victim on every one. Romanian folklore says his mad hatred went beyond the enemies of his homeland into his own country—that he'd carve unborn babies from their unwed mothers, hammer nails into the skulls of ambassadors sent on errands of peace, seal and burn down halls where the poor would gather to eat and rest, among just a few of the grisly acts he was said to perform on whomever he deemed it justified on.

The papal legate Modrussa reported to Pope Pius II how, in his years of reign before 1462, Dracula had killed 40,000 of his political foes :

_He killed some of them by breaking them under the wheels of carts; others, stripped of their clothes, were skinned alive up to their entrails; others placed on stakes, or roasted on red-hot coals placed under them; others punctured with stakes piercing their head, their navel, breast, and, what is even unworthy of relating, their buttocks and the middle of their entrails, and, emerging from their mouths; in order that no form of cruelty be missing, be stuck stakes in both breasts of mothers and thrust their babies onto them; he killed others in other ferocious ways, torturing them with varied instruments such as the atrocious cruelties of the most frightful tyrants could devise._

One event demonstrating Vlad's "respect of diplomatic usage" during a reception of a Genoese delegation from Caffa, narrated by Michael Beheim :

_I have found that some Italians i.e., Genoese came as ambassadors to his court. As they came to him they took off their hats and hoods facing the prince. Under the hat, each of them wore a coif or a little skullcap that he did not take off, as is the habit among Italians. Dracula then asked them for an explanation of why they had only taken their hats off, leaving their skullcaps on their heads. To which they answered : "This is our custom. We are not obliged to take our skullcaps off under any circumstances, even an audience with the sultan or the Holy Roman Emperor." Dracula then said, "In all fairness, I want to strengthen and recognize your customs." They thanked him bowing to him and added, "Sire we shall always serve you with your interests if you show us such goodness, and we shall praise your greatness everywhere." Then in a deliberate manner this tyrant and killer did the following: he took some big iron nails and planted them in a circle in the head of each ambassador. "Believe me," he said while his attendants nailed the skullcaps on the heads of the envoys, "this is the manner in which I will strengthen your customs."_

A paraphrased Romanian peasant ballad :

_One day Dracula met a peasant who was wearing too short a shirt. One could also notice his homespun peasant trousers, which were glued to his legs, and one could make out the sides of his thighs. When he saw him dressed in this manner, Dracula immediately ordered him to be brought to his court. "Are you married?" he inquired. "Yes, I am, Your Highness." "Your wife is assuredly of the kind who remains idle. How is it possible that your shirt does not cover the calf of your leg? She is not worthy of living in my realm. May she perish!" "Beg forgiveness, my lord, but I am satisfied with her. She never leaves home and she is honest." "You will be more satisfied with another since you are a decent and hardworking man." Two of Dracula's men had in the meantime brought the wretched woman to him, and she was immediately impaled. Then bringing another woman, he gave her away to be married to the peasant widower. Dracula, however, was careful to show the new wife what had happened to her predecessor and explain to her the reasons why she had incurred the princely wrath. Consequently, the new wife worked so hard she had no time to eat. She placed the bread on one shoulder, the salt on another, and worked in this fashion. She tried hard to give greater satisfaction to her new husband than the first wife and not to incur the curse of Dracula._

One example of Vlad Dracula's cruelty in Romanian folklore :

_If any wife had an affair outside of marriage, Dracula ordered her sexual organs cut. She was then skinned alive and exposed in her skinless flesh in a public square, her skin hanging separately from a pole or placed on a table in the middle of the marketplace. The same punishment applied to maidens who did not keep their virginity, and also to unchaste widows. For lesser offenses, Dracula was known to have the nipple of a woman's breast cut off. He also once had a red-hot iron stake shoved into a woman's vagina, making the instrument penetrate her entrails and emerge from her mouth. He then had the woman tied to a pole naked and left her exposed there until the flesh fell from the body, and the bones detached themselves from their sockets._

A description of Vlad's "forest of the impaled" from Tursun Bey, a late fifteenth century Turkish chronicler :

_In front of the wooden fortress where he had his residence, he set up at a distance of six leagues two rows of fence with impaled Hungarians, Moldavians and Wallachians. In addition, since the neighboring area was forested, innumerable people were hanging from each tree branch, and he ordered that if anyone should take one of the hanging victims down, he would hang in his place._

A story confirming how thievery was virtually unknown in Wallachia throughout Vlad's reign :

_A golden cup was purposely left by Dracula near a certain fountain located near the source of a river. Travelers from many lands came to drink at this fountain, because the water was cool and sweet. Dracula had intentionally put this fountain in a deserted place to test dishonest wayfarers. So great was the fear of impalement, however, that so long as he lived no one dared to steal the cup, and it was left at its place._

Vlad Dracula's life would indeed know many sacrifices and hardships, but it would also know many victories. 1453 saw the fall of the Roman fortress at Constantinople, though that was not a battle without consequence. Nevertheless, it was a battle Vlad and his army played a pivotal role in. A series of overwhelmingly victorious attacks made through both Wallachia and Transylvania in 1456 made Prince Dracula a feared and hated name to many. In the winter of 1459 Dracula organized one of his most devastating raids on Transylvanian soil, with the clear intention of trying to seize Dan III and his supporters, burning villages, forts, towns, and crops to deprive the population of food, and killed men, women, and children as he progressed along the valley of the Prahova River. The much-hated Dan III was captured in 1460 by Wallachians and forced to dig his own grave before Vlad personally beheaded him. 1462 saw the suicide of his Transylvanian first wife (though it is unclear if they were actually ever wed), who threw herself into the river and killed herself after hearing false news of her husband's death. It is said a Turk firing an arrow with a scroll through her window relayed this false news.

Come the end of 1462, however, the Hungarian King Matthias Corvinus began to fear Vlad's restlessness and willpower, so he had him imprisoned for a period of twelve years, not releasing him until 1474. It was not until November of 1476 that Vlad was able to reclaim the title of _voivode._ During the course of his conflicts, Dracula had to abandon the Orthodox Christian faith and become a Roman Catholic to secure a much needed hard-and-fast military alliance with the Hungarians. This was secured with the marriage of his second wife, King Matthias' cousin, Ilona "Lisa" Szilágy, in 1475.

His bloody campaign against the Turks going on for decades, his battles finally came to an end one December in 1476. Decapitated in a marsh near Snagov by a Turkish assassin disguised as one of his own men, Vlad's head was allegedly taken back to Constantinople to be displayed before his enemies. His remains later buried near a monastery in Snagov Chapel, Vlad was thought laid to rest for eternity.

**II. Prince Dracula, In Death**

When excavation digs turned up empty centuries later, the mystery then began : what happened to the body?

Bram Stoker had his own answer, written and told to the ages in the form of his famous novel, Dracula. Undead after a rebirth, his memories of his former life only a vague recollection in the back of his mind, Vlad Dracula embraced his vampirism, using his genius to the cause of evil and his own arcane purposes.

During his lifetime he had three children with two women. The first was with his first wife, a Transylvanian noblewoman for whom history records no known name rumored to be named "Elisabeta" who allegedly committed suicide in 1462. By this woman he had Mihnea "the Bad" Dracula, who was the Prince of Wallachia from 1508 to 1510, had two wives (first Smaranda, then Voica), had two sons and a daughter by Voica, and then was stabbed to death by the Serbian assassin, Dimitrije Iaxici. The second and third was with Ilona Szilágy, the cousin of the King of Hungary whom he married in 1475. From Ilona, Dracula fathered Vlad Dracula IV, another claimant to the Wallachian throne, and then an unknown third child who lived much of his life with the Bishop of Oradea before dying of unknown causes (written to be an unspecified mortal ailment of some kind) in 1482. Mixing history with the Bram Stoker novel and then with the Legend of CastleVania, it could be said that this mysterious third child of Vlad Dracula from Ilona is Alucard (rumored real name : Adrian Fahrenheight Tepes), the "forgotten son of Dracula" written in the CastleVania lore who was first seen prior to or during the 1482 battle between Sonia Belmont and Dracula, then later assisted her son, Trevor C. Belmont, in 1499, and then finally became the central "hero" figure in 1792 one-on-one against his father.

Which brings the avid historian to "Count" Dracula, the Belmont Clan, and the events and myths that comprise the Legend of CastleVania itself...

**III. Count Dracula, The Undead**

Prince Vlad Dracula III of the lands of Wallachia and Transylvania died in December of 1476. This we know, pure historical fact and all myth/legend aside. But the lingering question remains, embroidered primarily in American myth : **did he survive?** And if so, and that answer lay in his becoming a vampire, then how did that transpire? **How did Dracula defy the grave?**

To date, there are two popularized theories for how Dracula became a vampire and a third theory that is more my own personal conjecture :

**#1** : Perhaps a grief-stricken Vlad returned from a victorious campaign against the Ottoman Turks in 1462 to find his Transylvanian (first) wife dead, having committed suicide after thinking her husband killed (history seems to confirm this much). When he is told that his wife could not ascend to Heaven as a result of her suicide, he renounced God and swore to rise from his death to avenge hers with all the powers of darkness. It could be conjectured that when Vlad was assassinated fourteen years later on 1476, he _did,_ in fact, rise from his death, then given the virtual immortality that comes with being a vampire.

**#2 **: More of a creative theory suggests over fifty years after Vlad's assassination in 1476, while Vlad's headless corpse was kept in Snagov Monastery, Radu, son of Alexandru, the deceased Prince of Wallachia and Moldavia, retrieved and brought the head (history seems to indicate it was taken by the Turks back to Constantinople to be displayed before the enemies of Dracula, where it remained until the flesh fell from bone and it fell from its post — the history in this era is sketchy enough to leave this bit open to interpretation... maybe that wasn't his head at all, merely a propaganda trick by the Sultan...?) to the monastery. Attempting to resurrect Vlad through an incantation he began to chant, his words were interrupted by one of the monks he had thought dead, who lunged and stabbed Radu in the back. As Radu's blood spilled onto the corpse of Vlad, the deceased prince rose from his coffin, resurrected through the life's blood of his lineage. Vlad then put one of the dead monks' bodies into his now-empty coffin, hoping to retain the mystery of his rebirth.

Or, factoring in the Legend of CastleVania...

**#3** : Dracula somehow made a deal with Death / The Grim Reaper in the afterlife following his assassination in 1476, giving him life after death in Undead form as one of the first _vampyre, strigoi, nosferatu_ to be reborn every hundred years automatically or sooner if resurrected by outside means/persons. The recurring Belmont Clan encounters with Death throughout the centuries within the walls of the Demon Castle Dracula on the way to confronting Dracula would seem to suggest this possibility as a rather plausible (if one can make himself buy into the existence of a Grim Reaper and an afterlife — I ask the reader to bear with me on this, if only for sake of argument) if not plausible one — what possible reason could Death have to defend Dracula's castle like Dracula's personal bodyguard for all of time if he was not operating somehow in concert with Dracula, presumably under some kind of formal agreement or at least understanding? This "answer" would only raise another question, however : what could Death's interest in Dracula be?

Stranger still is the tale of Mathias Cronqvist, a tale that comes up often. It is a discussion of great debate among the Watchers, but some believe Dracula was first known as Mathias Cronqvist, in the years before 1094. It was during this time, in the age of the Crusades, when Cronqvist was best of friends with a man known as Leon Belmont. Together, the two formed an undefeatable company, that fought in the name of God. Mathias served as the tactical genius, while Leon was a warrior without peer. However, shortly after losing his wife, Elisabetha Cronqvist, Mathias would become bedridden and would reveal to Leon that his own girlfriend, Sara Trantoul, had been kidnapped by the vampire, Walter Bernhard, and taken to a castle within the Forest of Eternal Darkness. It was a ploy. Mathias had come up with a brilliant plan. Blaming God for taking his wife away from him, he had turned to the dark side and merely used Leon to kill Walter so he could steal the vampire's Ebony Stone. After Leon defeated Walter, Mathias disappears and becomes Lord of the Night, the king of all vampires. However, by using Leon in the fashion he had done, Mathias had cursed the Belmont bloodline to "forever hunt the night" and forever hunt him. Also destined to eternally oppose Dracula was the Belmont family's signature weapon, the "Vampire Killer," a mystic whip inhabited by the vengeful soul of the slain Sara Trantoul.

Those that subscribe to this theory of Dracula's origin assume that he would later change his name and, drifting through the centuries, would later take on the persona of Prince Vlad Dracula III of Wallachia, then later Count Dracula. Some further speculate that Mathias Cronqvist actually found a way to be reborn into another body and, in 1431 at the birth of Vlad Dracula III, did just that.

**IV. CastleVania, the Demon Castle Dracula**

"_Every one hundred years the forces of Good mysteriously start to weaken.  
Thus, the power of Dracula begins to revive itself.  
His power grows stronger and stronger every one hundred years."  
_- _The Legend of CastleVania, the Third Trial of Simon, _1698

In Transylvanian Romania, above the Argés River and adjacent to both the Carpathian Mountains and Transylvanian Alps lays Castle Dracula, erected from slave labor in the fifteenth century consisting of a labor party of enslaved local criminals and the rich boyars Prince Dracula took a disliking to. After the Prince's death in 1476, it remained standing in a decrepit state of disrepair all the way until the 1970s, when a union of historians who led the media to believe they had been working toward manually restoring the castle to some semblance of its former glory. Historian and Dracul family descendant Radu Florescu as well others showed aristocratic Americans about the premises as if it were no different than any other tourist trap, invited tourists, none having any idea they were treading upon the cursed earth of CastleVania.

That is what is in the history books on Romania you can buy in bookstores. What is the truth, however, is that Castle Dracula has been (for lack of a better word) magically reconstituted to every bit its former glory and then some on multiple occasions, with every resurrection of its host, Count Dracula. In the Legend of CastleVania, this continually resurrecting castle is known as "The Demon Castle Dracula, CastleVania." Dracula's resurrections are concealable enough, but how an entire Castle right on the edge of the Argés resurrecting at least once a century was managed to be covered up is a mystery along with the motives of whatever government officials decided to cover this up — in earlier periods this could be explained, but with the last reconstitution of CastleVania in 1844 through 1852... one would think it a bit too out of the ordinary to hide, a gigantic castle rising on its own will from the earth only to crumble back just as mysteriously as it had appeared.

Ah, well. I digress — onto those reputable Belmonts.

**V. The Belmont Clan Connection**

Though the following chronological listing may not include every instance of a Belmont challenging Dracula, — truly, the Master Vampire to end all Master Vampires (gods, the man's human life alone is extraordinary enough) — it contains all the instances witnessed or recorded by Watchers. Chronological listing is as follows :

**Belmont Clan Challengers of Dracula**  
**1092 - Leon Belmont**  
**1482 - Sonia Belmont / "Sonia the Great" (a Slayer), Alucard (I)**  
**1499 - Trevor C. Belmont, Sypha Belnades, Alucard (II)**  
**1576 - Christopher Belmont (I)**  
**1591 - Christopher Belmont (II) & Soleiyu Belmont**  
**1691 - Simont Belmont (I)**  
**1698 - Simon Belmont (II + III)**  
**1748 - Juste Belmont**  
**1792 - Richer Belmont (I)**  
**1797 - Richter Belmont (II), Alucard (III)**  
**1830 - Nathan Graves, Morris Baldwin, Hugh Baldwin**  
**1852 - Reinhardt Schneider  
****1897 - Quincey P. Morris**  
**1999 - Julius Belmont, Yoko Belnades**

You will note Sonia Belmont mentioned above as "a Slayer." This is only theory (mine), but it would make sense and be perfectly possible chronologically for that period of time in retrospect to the Legend of the Slayer with Sonia being certainly **one of the first** Slayers, the legend leading all the way from the Tribal original Slayer up to the promising young Ms. Summers of my present tutelage. I will wait until further proof or historical documentation surfaces to cement this theory or otherwise bring it into better perspective before blabbing too loudly about this theory, but it is something to keep in mind, surely.

"_As long as there have been demons, there has been The Slayer. For each generation, there is only one Slayer.  
One girl in all the world, a Chosen one, born with the strength and skill to hunt vampires and other deadly creatures,  
to find them where they gather and to stop the spread of their evil and the swell of their numbers.  
When one Slayer dies, the next is called and trained by the Watcher."_  
- _The Legend of the Slayer,_ 2:23:10

In 1845, Boston shipyards were plagued by a series of grisly murders. The attacks ended when a quiet young woman arrived in town. In 1893, in the Oakland Territory, a series of savage attacks claimed the lives of 17 homesteaders. The murders stopped when a young woman blacksmith passed through town. These are the only two concretely known & historically noted Slayers apart from Ms. Summers beginning primarily in 1997.

Let me state the Count's "known" (at least, known concretely enough on paper for me to even be able to list these with a straight face... I use this term loosely) resurrections (automatic centennial resurrections/deaths following centennial resurrections in **bold**) should also be noted for reference. Keep in mind the below listing ignores "resurrections" when documented history regarding Dracula's Belmont Clan confrontations indicates certain "resurrections" were not Dracula rising from the dead again, but only Dracula coming out of hiding after not being properly killed by the previous or same Belmont :

**Resurrections of Dracula**

**1476 - Killed in 1499 by Trevor C. Belmont, Sypha Belnades, Alucard**  
**1576 - Killed in 1591 by Christopher Belmont**  
**1691 - Killed in 1698 by Simon Belmont**  
**1748 - Killed in 1748 by Juste Belmont**  
**1792 - Kiled in 1792 by Richter Belmont**  
**1797 - Killed in 1797 by Alucard**  
**1844 - Killed in 1852 by Reinhardt Schneider (does not count, was in different body)**  
**1897 - Killed in 1897 by Quincey P. Morris and others**  
**1917 - Killed in 1917 by John Morris & Eric Lecarde**  
**1999 - Killed in 1999 by Julius Belmont and others**

As the above listing should show, one can make the connection that Dracula is automatically resurrected roughly 100 years following any death after an automatic resurrection, beginning with his First Centennial Resurrection in 1576 and his death in 1591 against Christopher Belmont, leaving him to be resurrected for his Second Centennial Resurrection accordingly in 1691, 100 years after his last death. There have been strange occurrences, namely his resurrection in 1748 only 50 years after being put down by Simon Belmont, also his resurrection in 1830 by Carmilla... we tend to think of these more as the exception than the rule.

With this bit of knowledge in mind, we must consider : Dracula's last centennial resurrection was in 1897, and he was thence killed in the year 1897 primarily by Quincey P. Morris. Like his resurrection via Malus in 1844, one can ignore his resurrection by the Countess Elizabeth Bartley in 1917 (and subsequent killing by John Morris & Eric Lecarde), as it was by means/persons outside of the "naturally" (using the word liberally) occurring centennial resurrections. Now with this in mind, 100 years after Dracula's last Post-Centennial Resurrection death (1897) would slot his fifth and latest centennial resurrection... at the year 1997.

It is not certain whether he resurrected in a timely fashion, but it is known that just one year ago in 1999, Julius Belmont and his companions managed to confront and seal Dracula in a lunar eclipse in what became known throughout the Watchers as the "Demon Castle Wars." It was believed that Dracula would remain sealed for all of time beyond this; that all of humanity could at last be at peace with the Legend of CastleVania.

If that is so, why did CastleVania suddenly appear (and later vanish) in Sunnydale yesterday? Why did the Slayer come face to face with Dracula? In the next few days I plan to send my documentation of this incident to the benefit of the Council, but bear with me.

My colleagues and friends, it is my duty to inform and warn you — provided the historical documents I've compiled this informational packet bear any weight (at this point, I have no reason to doubt they are legitimate accounts of the said events) — that Count Vlad Dracula has been walking amongst us some time again. It being near the end of the year 2000 as I write this, nearly the dawn of the Millennium, I find myself in a constant state of worry. Why no army of Undead or even no army of gypsies hasn't swept over Europe yet in Dracula's bidding is unknown, but the proximity to the New Year could be attributed. Dracula has not been alive/Undead long enough to witness the dawn of a new millennium. What the significance of the dawn of the Third Millennium on January 1st, 2001 could mean in the Legend of CastleVania and to Dracula himself is unknown, but it could be a factor in why the Count has been in hiding these past months.

I will await word from any who wish to compare notes with what I've gathered thus far. I have not told The Slayer of the findings I've made in this documentation yet (at first glance, the very premise behind the Legend of CastleVania seems farfetched, if not laughable). For the time being I will prepare young Ms. Summers nonetheless for the time when mankind — Belmont Clan members among our modern day society willing to meet the challenge or not — must rise against the tyranny of Count Vlad Dracula III.

All of my best regards,

- **Rupert Giles, Watcher  
September 27th, 2000**


	2. Prologue

**"CastleVania 2000"  
Prologue : Resurrection**

**Transylvania, Romania  
July 29th, the year of our Lord 1999 A.D.**

Beyond the Borgo Pass, across the Argés River, high in the Transylvanian Alps of Romania, nearly at the point where they merged with the vast Carpathian Mountains on the horizon, the thick smell of the Black Sea lingering in the air, there lay the decadent ruins of a castle long forgotten. The passing of unkind centuries had made the once-impressive structure nearly indistinguishable from the rock, soil, and smoldered forest that surrounded it.

But today an evil mist swept over the rotting bricks, culminating over a single brown coffin, the only thing within a mile perimeter unravaged by the unnatural evil in the air that did not permit even the growth of weeds.

The lid was thrust open and a tall, dignified man with a thick mustache and an authoritative, regal demeanor climbed out. His hair was matted back, and his flesh was sickly and pale. His brown eyes flickered red, and as he opened his mouth his canine teeth grew to sharp points.

"At last!" he shouted triumphantly. "The circle continues!"

Crows and other birds frantically flew from their nearby perches in a frantic flee. As the man raised his arms to the skies, the earth itself began to quiver violently. "Hear me, dark spirits, and obey the Prince of Darkness!" he shouted above the rumbling in a deep, Romanian-accented voice. "The Son of the Dragon has need of you once again! Obey me!"

As if his the very ground around him had been listening to his words, the tops of four gigantic stone towers emerged from the earth, rising above the ground for two hundred feet, soon revealing the decrepit walls that joined them together. Before the eyes of the man who beheld it, his castle was recreated in a mottled flurry of swirling atoms and molecules.

It had been only a few days since his last resurrection by rite, when a Belmont and his like united against Dracula to bind him during the lunar eclipse.

"Julius Belmont..." he spoke, his tongue flicking as he spoke the name devilishly. But then something dawned over the immortal's face, something regretful. He realized his curse, and the cost for his last defeat. "Thought they bound me, did they. Perhaps they did..." He would get over it. He had learned from the greats of his time that revenge was a waste of time, an effort without due thought or consideration to one's principles, to say nothing of priorities. As it was, it was moot. His most ancient of enemies were dead and gone. "But not their seed... their bloodline..." the man muttered repugnantly. "Not their cursed descendants... wherever they are."

His black/purple Toledo cape sweeping behind him, Dragon medallion jingling against his chest, and his ceremonial Toledo blade that had been his father's slung at his side, he stalked into the deathly forest of bare, black trees, laughing coarsely as the entirety of his castle solidified in the moonlight.

CastleVania—the Demon Castle—had resurrected. And so had he.

The Count found the further he went in time, the more the need for subtlety and to shroud the acts of sorcery he had come to rely on in previous centuries. In time he could re-muster the gypsy army that had pledged their loyalty to him in the previous century before the disastrous Carfax Abbey debacle. Prince Vlad Dracula III would once again be forced to take on the reclusive persona of Count Dracula of Bistritz, an army of gypsies at his servitude rather than an army of Undead ghouls, skeletal warriors, and monsters molded into mythical images.

"The year of our Lord, 1999... merely two years from the dawn of Third Millennium. Plenty of time to prepare for my deliverance." His hands at his hips as he watched the all-too familiar spectacle, a smile flashed across the King of Vampires' lips. "What wonders this new era must hold..."

Wonders... and enemies.

-----

**To: ****Subject: A written memorandum, 09.30.00**

**A written memorandum from Rupert Giles, Watcher**

It is with no sense of pride that I must let it be known that my earlier documentation, theories, and accoutns on the 27th of September... are all absolutely and undeniably true. Only days ago The Slayer, the young Ms. Summers, and her friends -- myself included -- became entangled in something of a confrontation with this Count Vlad Dracula character on the 26th of September. From what I gather, Ms. Summers was wholly able to hold her own against the Count in his temporary Sunnydale property estate, who first had her in something of a vampiric trance. After much strife, Ms. Summers was evidently able to repeatedly "kill" the Count, though he continuously took to morphing his being into a cloud of mist. From the Count's own mouth, he made the journey to Sunnydale, California for the sole purpose of meeting The Slayer, Ms. Summers, who he referred to as simply "the Killer."

It can only, thence, be my conclusion that not only is Count Dracula still alive beyond his war with Julis Belmont only a year previous, but that we haven't seen the last of him even still. With the dawn of the Third Millennium still looming before us, I fear ominous tidings lay in the days ahead. I can only pray The Slayer will be ready.

**Rupert Giles  
September 30th, 2000**


	3. Chapter I

**"CastleVania 2000"  
Chapter I of III : "Daywalkers"**

**Cali, Colombia  
December 27th, the year of our Lord 2000 A.D.**

The vaguely copper-esque scent of blood lingering in the darkness. The faintest audible hint of movement among the warehouse, such thatany human could never have picked up on any of it.

Blade wasn't human.

Silver katana-like sword drawn, black leather longcoat whipping behind him, Blade sprinted and leapt forth, cleaving off the head of an advancing figure in mid-air, then swiping a second figure clean through the torso. In another precise, practiced movement, he thrust his sword backward on landing. A figure only inches behind gasped, then slid off the blade and hit the floor. Blade heard the three vampire corpses disintegrate around him. The immediate battle over, he allowed himself only a moment to breathe.

"Ah, the gringo Daywalker. Or do you just prefer 'Blade'?" a shrill voice spoke in heavily Spanish-accented English. "I heard you took out Frost's gang in the States." The lights flickered on and an entourage of trenchcoat-clad men were standing by the entrance, all of them flanking a well-dressed gentleman, the one who had spoken. "You will find we do things a little different here in Colombia. We're not so... lax. So... inefficient." The click of guns clicking off their safeties could be heard even before they were drawn from the gang's coats.

"Let's do this shit," Blade seethed.

With cat-like agility, Blade sprang to the side, sliding across the floor as he pulled his matte-black and silver-finished MACH pistol from its hip holster with his free hand. Vaulting to his feet, avoiding the beginning of the inevitable maelstrom of gunfire, he sheathed his sword for the moment. Without hesitation he cut loose with a barrage of silver-tipped firepower, mowing down the gang in sweeping salvos.

"Die, Blade!"

In unison with the falling of the last vampire gunman—by this time the piles of ash from the disintegrated corpses covering the floor—only Blade and the gang's leader were left standing.

"You first, asshole." Pulling an Indian-style katar punching dagger from his boot, Blade shucked it at the man, catching him in the throat. He stumbled back, choking, gagging, and spurting blood for a few seconds before the silver in the dagger took effect.

Alone again, Blade stood still after retrieving his dagger.

"The one they call Blade..." reverberated a new voice. Blade felt a tinge of worry—even his heightened senses couldn't give him a bearing on where it was coming from.

No one did that. Ever.

"I have heard of you," it continued. "I have also heard we are much alike."

Blade glared, adjusting his sunglasses as he scanned the dark recesses of the warehouse. "I'm nothing like you monsters."

"But we share the same goal, you and I... we hold similar pain in our past..." The voice went lower, "We are both _dhampire..._ we both walk the day."

Blade narrowed his eyes to slits. "You know nothing about me."

"I know your human mother was attacked by a vampire when she was pregnant with you. This gave you the vampire strengths... without the weaknesses."

He still wasn't impressed. "So you've done your homework. Good for you."

"I am half vampyre. I bear no weaknesses save for the bloodlust... the Hunger."

Blade harrumphed. "Then you're no different."

"Am I not? Perhaps you are too quick to pass judgment. When need be I sate the Hunger on no innocent... only on the dregs that society has spawned over the centuries. I oppose those of my father's ilk, though I generally turn a blind eye to them."

"Your father..." Blade couldn't help but cock an eyebrow, "... who was he?"

"Count Dracula." The answer was spoken almost matter-of-factly.

Blade furrowed his brow, not sure how to react. "Assuming I believe you... what do you want from me?"

"I require your assistance. My father's castle, the Demon Castle Dracula—"

"CastleVania," Blade finished for him. "I've heard the legend."

"It has risen once again. With it, my father is resurrected."

"You would kill your father?" Blade inquired.

"He must be stopped."

Blade said nothing. He could tell the stranger how he had killed his own mother, how he had looked into her eyes as the life drained from her body at the thrust of his blade. He could tell the stranger, but Blade was never one to volunteer any information he didn't have to.

"You had to face your mother, the mother you thought lost forever." Was the stranger reading his thoughts? "A vampire, the wench of the one called Deacon Frost. You killed her."

"I had to free her."

"Then you do understand."

"Yes," Blade's tersely formed the word.

"The vampires you've dealt with over the past few years—vampires across Chicago, New York, Florida, New Mexico, Moscow... oh, I've been keeping track of you—mere hoodlums and pests next to the Prince of Darkness."

"Maybe. Maybe not."

"Then you agree? You will accompany me?"

Blade crossed his arms, his katar dagger not-so-subtly gripped and held beneath his forearm. "Show yourself. And tell me your name."

"As you wish."

First an almost inaudible hissing emanated from some unseen location. Blade became aware of the thin, gray mist seeping in from the cracks in the windows and walls.

"I have taken the name... Alucard."

Holding his pose, he made no move when the mist suddenly started solidifying and taking shape. The shape of a man.

"Now... satisfied?" the man asked, standing unabashed in intricate eighteenth century garb, complete with sash and antique sword.

"I should kill you where you stand."

Alucard stood undaunted. "Then why don't you do so?"

Blade's lip twitched. He could tell the famed vampire hunter did not take kindly to accepting help from a vampire, even a brethren. "You can take me... to him." The King of Vampyres, celebrated in the Bram Stoker novel and countless films of the century. Blade had probably done his research, connecting the dots between the novel, the historical Prince Vlad "The Impaler" (Tepes) Draculea III of Wallachia, the _Book of Erebus,_ and the legend of CastleVania—even the rumors that the novel was based on a real life collection of diaries. Blade most likely figured early on there really was a "Count" Dracula, but the vampire epidemic in the States kept him from making the trip overseas to try and find out for himself.

"Yes," Alucard agreed. "And I can help you slay him." It wouldn't be the first time. Since his mortal death as a sickly child in 1482, he had three dealings with his father in the late-fifteenth and late-eighteenth centuries.

"I need help from no one," Blade snapped. "Never. Not from you or your kind."

"Fair enough."

Blade tucked his weapons away beneath his longcoat. He started walking out of the warehouse, passing Alucard without a glance. "Let's roll."

The hunter stopped at the exit. "Coming?"

Alucard smiled, nodded, and turned.

He had been successful in finding the Daywalker. That left only one other...

**Sunnydale, California  
December 28th, the year of our Lord 2000 A.D.**

A bitter chill hung in the air, the sun setting on the cityscape horizon. Christmas may have been over and New Year's was just around the corner, but the Holiday Season still didn't quite seem to be sticking in just yet.

"Judas... hmmm-kay."

Leaving the movie theatre she had killed two hours and a half watching a late night showing of an uninspired (in her general opinion) _Wes Craven Presents : Dracula 2000_ at, a very unimpressed Buffy Summers made her way to the park, backpack slung over her shoulder. She was on time but no one was around.

"Angel...?" Buffy called the name of her on-again, off-again vampire boyfriend (currently something equivalent to "business partner"). He was generally prompt about their late night meetings, even with the lone mission he had chosen some time ago to undertake in L.A.. "Angel, you here? Um, anywhere?" She laid a hand on her waist. "C'mon... this dark and spooky routine... it's getting old."

"Angel's running late," a voice thundered from the shadows of the shrubbery. "I'll take his place... _bitch!"_

Buffy quickly got a fix on the voice.

A large, burly vampire with blood-engorged muscles lunged forth, taloned hands reaching to rend Buffy's tender, young flesh. She didn't recognize the vampire, but he looked deadly enough to warrant a threat.

The original Spanish settlers of Sunnydale called the then-small town_ Boca Del Infierno, _rather accurately translated as "Hellmouth," she thought.

A side kick to the vampire's face sent him stumbling. The roundhouse across his temple that followed threw him to the grass.

Buffy bounced on the balls of her feet, ready as the vampire gathered himself and charged her once more. An elbow to the eye and a knee to the crotch later, she was prepared to finish the job.

"Say nighty-night, shitface." Buffy drew a fresh oak stake from where it was thinly concealed at her side, plunging it into the heart of the leering thing before her. It gasped out, clutching the stake it had been impaled with as it quickly disintegrated from the inside out.

Buffy caught her stake in the air before it fell with the rest of the ash. "Chalk one up for the Sunnydale slayer, folks," she chimed.

"Indeed, Slayer," came a deep voice accented in a language she couldn't place. Two figures were standing behind her. They'd come out of nowhere!

"Who... who're you?" she snapped at them. She grasped her stake readily, ready to take the two of them on if they posed a threat.

"Friends." The lead, thinner figure stepped forward, into the light of the nearest streetlight. The second figure remained in the shadows. "Friends who come to you with a proposal."

Buffy eyes the figures with wary suspicion. She'd been betrayed before, but knew enough to trust them until she had reason to do otherwise. "I'm... listening."

"Have you heard the legend of CastleVania?"

"CastleVania?" Buffy harrumphed. "The fairy tale about some schizo cursed castle that pops up outta nowhere every hundred years with the Dark Prince Dracula himself?"

"It's no fairy tale. It's very real, in fact." And so was the tone in the figure's voice.

"I... see."

"The castle is the Demon Castle Dracula, and it does indeed belong to the King of Vampyres."

"Er, Dracula? That creep? You gotta be kidding me—I thought I took care of his ass back in October."

"I kid you not, and no, though you did put forth a noble effort you most certainly did not 'take care of his ass.' Three years ago, as is the legend and the curse, Castle Dracula reconstituted itself over the river Arges in Transylvanian Romania, Count Dracula resurrected with it." The figure's gaze became deadly serious. "Right on schedule."

Buffy gave him a good-humored look. "I fought him, yes, I know he exists, yes—I even drank his blood, fer cryin' out loud—but... c'mon, _Dracula?_ You mean that guy's totally for real, CastleVania Legend and Bram Stoker novel all rolled into one?"

"He is my father." The voice lowered a tone. The pain behind it was genuine. "But he is also my sworn enemy."

Alucard then went on to, at great length, explain his history. Of his mortal death in 1482, his dealings with the Belmont Clan beginning with Sonia later that century, then Trevor, then Richter and Maria in the late 1700s, all of them detailing how he had opposed and, on two separate occasions, directly partook in the slaying of his father. When Alucard was done with that, he told Buffy why he and his companion had sought her out, and what they must now do.

"So who _is_ your pal?" Buffy asked when he was through, pointing at the nearby bulkier figure in a leather longcoat.

"Blade," the figure answered, just as Alucard was about to in his stead.

"Uh... fellow vampire hunter?"

"Something like that."

"Oh-kay..." Buffy made an uncomfortable face, let the silence hang for a little while, then looked back to Alucard. "You got a name?"

"I am called Alucard."

"You're called Alucard? Is that your real name? Hmf, it's 'Dracula' spelled backwards, I know, so I'm guessing it's some kinda nickname...?"

Alucard faltered, hesitating. "Once... I was called Adrian. Adrian Fahrenheit... Tepes."

"Tepes... _Tse-pesh..._ that's 'The Impaler' in Romanian, isn't it?"

"It is."

"My father's lineage... he is a hero in Romania but there is no hiding his actions."

Buffy nodded, then turned to Blade. "What about you, Mr. 'Blade'? You got a real name?"

Blade furrowed his brow. "What's it to you... blondie?"

"All right... I'm detecting some bitterness here. You really don't like the idea of having us around, do you, Blade?" Buffy pressed. "Why is that? What's your story?"

"None of your damn concern."

Alucard laid a hand on Blade's shoulder in defense of Buffy. "Blade, please..."

Blade's intensity relented, if only a few notches after he shook off Alucard's hand. He was in the company of a lady. "I... I had a mentor once... a partner," he eventually explained. "Whistler."

"You said 'had.'"

"Yeah." Blade met her gaze. "I did."

"Oh."

"I don't let nobody close no more. Nobody."

Buffy shrugged. "That's cool, I guess. So you like it solo." _Reminds me of my boyfriend,_ she made a mental note, thinking idly of Riley.

"Yeah. I do." If Buffy didn't know better, she'd say he was thoroughly irritated. "Just don't expect me to be saving your ass when the heat is on. I don't need a liability when we're doing our shit."

Buffy grinned. Blade was underestimating her, as most had in her past. "I can take care of myself just fine. But hey, who knows... maybe I'll have to save your ass sometime, Blade?"

Blade grunted, about the closest thing Buffy imagined he did to a laugh. "You're trippin'."

"You two will have to learn to cooperate," Alucard spoke. "Our journey is long and our peril is great, even with our combined talents and tools. I suggest we begin."

No one offered any argument. They knew what had to be done just as they knew what was at stake.


	4. Chapter II

**"CastleVania 2000"  
Chapter II of III : "Running the Gauntlet"**

**Transylvania, Romania  
December 31st, the year of our Lord 2000 A.D.**

"Are we there yet?" Buffy whined. It was nightfall by the time they neared the end of the cobble bridge they were crossing.

The privately chartered jet flight from California toRomania's Henri Coandă International Airport—the whole time of which being plagued with a seemingly unending series of storms and windy conditions—across the Atlantic had been the fun part. Taking it on foot from there on out after arriving in Bucharest, through the town of Veros they had hiked, over the Wicked Ditch they had gone, through the Aljiba and Dora Woods, through the ghost town, and finally through the Vrad Graveyard. As they came to a long bridge across the Argés River, they had been forced to use several vials of Alucard's Holy Water to break through the tainted bricks that impeded their way. It was when they reached the end of the Borgo Pass that Alucard told his two companions they had at last reached CastleVania, the scenic Carpathian Mountains and closer Transylvanian Alps looming on the horizon.

The Demon Castle Dracula. Dracula's unholy kingdom, cursed by the hundreds of the very spirits that, in life, helped build it.

Blade shot a sneer at Buffy, his hand at the handle of his katar punching dagger. "Ask that again, blondie, and I swear to _god_ I'll cut you a new leering mou—"

"Yes, Ms. Summers, we are there," Alucard cut Blade off, answering Buffy's query.

"Gotta say, though," Buffy offered her two cents as she gazed in awe at the castle's splendor, "It's a definite improvement over that cheap imitation Drac threw up back in Sunnydale when he, er, visited for the fall."

Blade just shook his head, giving a grunt. "Some motherfucka always tries to iceskate uphill..."

Gathering their wits even as they gathered their weapons at readiness, Alucard led the way into the night.

-----

"Freeze! I said _freeze,_ mother fucker!"

"He's got a gun!"

"He's got a sword!"

"She's got… some kind of bow and arrow…?"

"They're rabbittin'! Smoke'em!"

Dashing under the cover of the mist-ridden night, trio of warriors went into action. Their movement going into fast forward, Blade with MACH pistol in hand, Buffy brandishing a polished oak stake and crossbow, and Alucard with his broad Crissaegrimm Sword—their bickering and casual demeanor dropping as their roles as the roles that the hand of fate had dealt them to play materialized.

Getting through the armed security guards was the easy part—neither zombie, nor ghoul, nor vampire, they must have been normal.

"They've been marked," Blade noted, a hint of his fangs visible between his lips as he kicked over one of the bodies. "Look at their necks."

"I don't see anything... oh..." Buffy trailed off, noticing the hieroglyphic-esque tattoos on the back of the thugs necks when she thought she was looking for bite marks.

Blade harrumphed. "Marked by a head vampire... they serve this master in the hopes he'll make them Undead as well if they serve him well." Hocking, he spat on the body under his heel. "Congratulations, asshole."

Buffy's gaze shifted to Alucard, who she was startled to see was already looking at her behind a stilted grin. Giving a muted giggle, the three continued on toward the already-lowered castle gates.

"What's next, I wonder?" Buffy thought aloud.

**CastleVania, the Demon Castle Dracula**

In the ill-lit, grandiose foyer now of CastleVania, the sounds of the battle abruptly died out with a final animal-like whimper, then a gurgling noise.

Crouched in a cat-like position of resting that could turn into full readiness at any given moment, Buffy brushed a stray strand of sweat-strewn hair from her face. "Okay... any thoughts on just what the hell that thing was?" she inquired in annoyance. She wiped at the purple-tinted, viscous blood that had spattered across her cheek from the onslaught of the Mossberg 500A combat shotgun Blade insisted she take earlier. She spared one last look at the remnants of the disfigured, vaguely canine corpse at their feet.

"One ugly-fuckin' Cujo, that's for sure," Blade said. He gave his closest equivalent to a smile. "Nice work, though, girl."

"Cerberus," Alucard was quick to answer. "The three-headed dog that guards the gates of Hell. In many instances... his services are summoned... elsewhere."

Blade gave a scowl. "Well, you k—"

"**My finest hound... once again given flesh yet once again slain..." **a thundering voice cut Blade off. There, materializing in the air immediately behind the threesome, hovered the dark figure every mortal man would face sooner or later yet could never avoid.

The Grim Reaper. The Duke of Doom. Thanatos.

As was known to the three companions—each had made it their business to know everything there was to know about the supernatural and arcane (or in Buffy's case, she left that to Giles, the essentially paternal figure that was the Slayer's resident Watcher)—the Book of Nod and popular myth both placed the being celebrated to man as "Death" a Fallen Angel of biblical origin beside Gabriel, the angel Uriel, who with his fiery sword played a righteous judicator to human souls. His name meaning "Fire of God" and being described as "The Angel of Repentance," Uriel was said to be the Archangel that held the keys to the gates of Hell, who was also said to be the one who warned Noah of the impending Great Flood. According to _Milton, _Uriel was the Archangel with the sharpest eyes. As the "Interpreter of Prophecies," Uriel was usually depicted carrying a book or a papyrus scroll, or possessing the said Fiery Sword.

Now he was a cloaked skeleton, the veils of Time and Creation itself visible through the eternities through his dark, tattered robes.

"**The slayers of the _nosferatu,_ the _vampyre…_ the _strigoi,_ two of you sharing the best of both worlds yet each of you sharing the same blood ties…"** the vague outline of the Reaper's skeletal visage wavered, perhaps trying to smile, "… **the same bloodline. Or did you not realize?"** The laugh was unmistakable, reverberating through the chamber's interior. "**You did realize—one of you must have, for your union was not put forth by chance."**

"What's your stand, Death? We have no beef with you… unless you wanna make one with us."

"**Well, Eric… my stand is and has always been of a neutral nature. Though of late… these last few centuries I have been bound to a deal with a particular soul."**

Alucard took a step forward, then faced his comrades. "He is bound to Dracula, my friends. The legend of CastleVania… its centennial resurrection with my father… these are _not_ by random."

"**Indeed?"**

"No..." Alucard raised slowly his finger, pointing it accusingly at the visage of the Grim Reaper. "They were by _your_ hand."

With that, the battle began. The three warriors pulled out all the stops, giving it all they had as they worked as a unit.

Blade pressed the offensive, katana-like silver sword in hand, staying in Death's face and keeping him on his toes; Alucard moved about as a ghost, showing great agility as he seemingly attacked the Grim Reaper on all fronts with various weaponry; Buffy fought side-by-side with Blade, their martial arts prowess clear as they stuck to blades-only.

The odds were stacked. It was only a matter of time before Death's number was up. In a gust of raw Entropy, Death went screaming back into the void before the quickness of Alucard's sword.

The three took a moment to gather themselves both mentally and physically, Alucard now seeming more in his element the more he engaged these dark minions of his father.

"Since Prince Vlad Draculea's mortal death in 1476 Death has been bound by a pact, a barter on Vlad the Impaler's soul—a soul with great renown among the Powers that Be in the hereafter, the warrior of Romania that sent over a hundred and fifty thousand of his kingdom's Turkish enemies and native criminals alike screaming into Hell's ever-welcoming embrace. This pact called for Death to resurrect Dracula in 1476... but it was no longer the same man. Not my father. This new Dracula had been cursed with the spirit of Mathias Cronqvist, then going onto fight Trevor, Grant, Sypha, and myself in 1499; it called for Death to resurrect Dracula in 1576 to face Christopher the first time; it called for Death to resurrect Dracula in 1691 to have a number of confrontations with Simon; it called for Death to influence the dark priest Shaft—"

"Dark priest? Shaft? Hey, yeah, I know all about that cat," Blade interjected. "_Shaft, Shaft's Big Score, Shaft in Africa…_ forget Sam Jackson's take, that was my childhood hero—baddest cat in town. Baddest brutha, that's for damned sure."

Alucard rolled his eyes, understanding the modern-day reference to the biggest star of the '70s blaxploitation movies though not allowing himself to appreciate the humor, then continued, "It called for Death to influence the dark priest Shaft to resurrect Dracula with the help of his followers in 1788 to face Richter, then again four years later to ultimately face myself… and Maria; it called for Death to answer the summons of a countess named Carmilla not long thereafter to resurrect Dracula to face Nathan Graves and Hugh Baldwin; it called for Death to influence the dark priest Samuel to resurrect Dracula several decades early in 1844 to face Cornell the man-wolf and Henry DeRais the knight, then eight years later Reinhardt Schneider the Belmont and Carrie Fernandez; it called for Death to resurrect Dracula to ultimately face Jonathan Harker, Abraham Van Helsing, and Quincey P. Morris the Belmont in 1897; it called for Death to move the hand of the reborn Countess Elizabeth Bartley in 1917 during the First World War, resurrecting Dracula to do battle with Quincey's son John and his friend Eric Lecarde.

"That brings us to the year 1997, when Death once again rose to fulfill his pact with Dracula... for his Fifth Centennial Resurrection. This time he disguised this most latest reconstitution of the Demon Castle Dracula and resurrection of Dracula by reaching beyond the nether realms to move the hand of a union of historians who led the media to believe they had been working as early as the 1970s toward manually restoring Vlad III's Transylvanian Castle Dracula. Historian and Dracul family descendant Radu Florescu and others, showing aristocratic Americans about the premises as if it were no different than any other tourist trap, invited tourists, none having any idea they were treading upon the cursed earth of CastleVania.

"No one bothered to question the Florescu family's request to the Romanian government to end the tours last year. No one even seemed to wonder, even the most avid of Dracula enthusiasts, how the closing to the public of Castle Dracula related to the proximity of the new millennium."

"But it's _already_ the millennium… it's the year 2000, isn't it?"

Blade was about to offer a correction for Buffy, letting Alucard speak in politeness.

"There was no year 0, my dear Ms. Summers, thence the Julian Calendar of _Anno Domini_ started at the year 1, and thence the year 1 was the start of the First Millennium, 1001 was the start of the Second Millennium, and 2001 will be the start of the Third Millennium."

Buffy gave a sigh. "Don't I feel stupid. If Willow were here she'd probably smack me…"

Blade shook his head. "What the hell you majorin' in school, Buffy? Cheerleading?"

"All right, all right… it's pick-on-Buffy day already…"

The three began walking out of the chamber in the direction of a winding staircase with candelabras all the way up, Alucard's back turned to Blade and Buffy.

"What was Death talking about, Alucard?" Buffy asked, the burning curiosity overcoming her. Blade was likely wondering himself, but was equally willing to brush the whole matter aside.

Alucard stopped walking, but did not turn. "What do you mean?"

"Y'know… about each of us sharing the same 'bloodline'?"

"It is not easy to accept… or at least it is not easy to fathom its plausibility… but it is true."

Blade gave his usual dismissive grunt, putting on his best couldn't-care-less face. "Man, I don't _even_ need to be hearing this shit."

"Before I fought by Trevor C. Belmont's side in the fifteenth century—"

"Man, there goes chatterbox again," Blade interrupted. "Cut to the chase, Drac Junior. Or is it Kid Dracula?"

Alucard sighed, retaining his composure and patience but finding it slowly but surely wearing thin with Blade's continual flippancy. "Against Dracula during his first resurrection I made another stand against my father… though passively. It was in this encounter… this happening only months after my mortal body succumbed to mortal ailment in the care of the Bishop of Ordea in 1482… that I fell in love for the first time." Not even Blade offered any retort, smug or otherwise. "It was with Sonia, the first of the vampire hunters to challenge the Undead Dracula after he fell in the swamps near Buda."

Buffy cocked an eyebrow. "Sonia… Sonia Belmont. You mentioned her before."

"Yes, one of the first Belmonts to raise the ancestral Vampire Killer whip against the minions of my father. I tested her along her journey within the gates of CastleVania under the guise of being one of my father's generals while quietly plotting towards his undoing." Alucard winced, his emotions and expressions known only to himself. He couldn't be proud of standing against his father, but it seemed clear that he believed that whatever Dracula was now was not the same Wallachian Prince that Romania celebrated as a hero he had once been proud to call his father.

"Upon Sonia's slaying of my father we reconciled as kindred spirits. Soon, as more than that, and within the year she gave birth to my only child… Trevor C. Belmont." Alucard finally turned around. "The Legend of CastleVania that has become popularized leaves this part out… the mystery behind where the Belmonts' mysterious powers originated from and the unthinkable truth—the Belmonts, the biggest bane of Dracula, stem from Dracula's own bloodline."

"Trevor… a quarter vampire," Blade mused. "Hey, great. That's fuckin' great. That's beautiful."

"You see, Buffy… the legend of the female Slayer… that every generation has one, and every Slayer has a Watcher." Alucard paused, perhaps for effect. "I could tell you your entire family line… trace it back to the beginning."

Buffy nodded in awe, understanding wholly where Alucard was going with this and accepting it. She generally considered herself a good judge of character, of truth and falsehood. There was no deceit to be found beneath Alucard's facade, if that's really what it was. "Sonia… Sonia Belmont was one of the first Slayers. Wasn't she?"

Alucard nodded. Buffy had her answer.

"All right," Blade interjected, half-jokingly. "I'll play. What does that make me to you guys? "

"Part of the bloodline, Eric."

Alucard's matter-of-face tone was taken as condescending by Blade, who had become accustomed to living a life of being the one who always had the answers even when Whistler had been his mentor. "First, stop calling me that like you fuckin' know me. Second, last I checked my last name ain't no Belmont, Summers, or Dracula. At any rate, in case you haven't noticed… I'm black. Y'know… Action Jackson kinda thing? Blackula? The Count Chockula to your Captain Crunch? The Chris Rock to your Tom Green? The Samuel L. Jackson to your Bruce Wil—"

"First, you got your given last name from your mother. Your father was a man by the name of Devante Johnson. His father—your paternal grandfather—was a man by the name of Charles Lee Johnson… a man who wed a thoroughly Caucasian Cynthia Morris, the daughter of none other than John Morris, son of Quincey."

"What the fuck, man... basically... all three of us..." Blade paused, doing a double-take. "You saying I'm related to _both_ your skinny, lilly white asses? Oh, this is _sweet."_

As the three ascended the winding staircase to the Demon Castle Dracula's second floor, little further was said between the three. 


	5. Chapter III

**"CastleVania 2000"  
Chapter III of III : "The Dissolution"**

**CastleVania, the Demon Castle Dracula  
December 31st, the year of our Lord 2000 A.D.**

After the trio of vampire hunters' encounter with Death, several more hours of intensive combat that put them on the defensive awaited them. As if it were all some kind of increasingly insane gauntlet, one after the other they were met and affronted with ghouls, zombies, both skeletal and armored warriors with shields and swords, lizardmen, mudmen, and fishmen. Every now and again they would encounter a pack of fanatic human enough-looking gypsies, rifles or knives in their hands, which seemed a breath of fresh air from the veritable "monsters" they had been encountering in such number. Still, why any humans would knowingly pledge their allegiance to the servitude of Dracula escaped them.

"What time is it?" Alucard inquired, the three of them nearly at the top of the winding flight of stairs the three of them were ascending. His heightened senses and overall physical awareness could tell him to minimal degree of error, but he seemed to want a precise number.

"Adjusting for time zones... Eleven Thirty-Three P.M.," Buffy Summers replied, giving her watch a quick glimpse.

Alucard winced. "Running out of time... come midnight, my father's hold on this world will become absolute; come midnight... he will truly become King of the Vampyres."

Blade shot Alucard a reprimanding gaze. Even with sunglasses on, there was no escaping that venom. "I think we're all aware of the situation, Drac Junior."

"Are we truly?" Alucard inquired, cocking an eyebrow.

"Look, Kid Dracula, we just ain't g—"

"Oh, my. How utterly cute... the Blade the Daywalker, Buffy the Vampire Slayer... and Master Alucard himself, the forgotten son of Dracula."

The three vampire hunters recoiled at the sound of the sultry feminine voice. Looking above them was a shapely, rather regal-looking woman with long, flowing greenish-black hair dressed in a red gown that dragged behind her. Four young girls—all of them disturbingly naked—no older than seventeen or so knelt beside her, each one holding lovingly onto a leg of the woman.

"You... I feared I would cross paths with you one day again," Alucard seethed, glowering at the woman.

"The feeling's mutual, I'm sure, Master Alucard."

"I am 'Master Alucard' no longer, witch," Alucard boomed, his words defensive as they were definitive. "I left my father's servitude many a century ago, as you should have if you had any semblance of humanity left in you!"

"Your loss, but I cannot leave the side of my uncle."

Buffy grunted, then gave Alucard an intuitive look. "C'mon, Alucard, you're the one doing the Undead introductions in this group. Who's the bitch?"

"This is the Countess Elizabeth Bartley of England. To be sure, an ancestor of Elizabeth Bathory 'The Blood Countess,' Bartley is a vampire witch, herself before even Dracula himself was even born to his mortal life, she fed off the blood of the hundreds young servant girls she surrounded herself with at her castle until she was tried as such and burned at the stake in 1421. She was resurrected centuries later to do battle with John Morris and Eric Lecarde in 1917, presumably killed in the encounter."

"Really into those servant girls, eh?" Buffy mused. "What is she, some kind of nymphomaniac vampire lesbian? Can't say I've run into many of those."

Bartley hissed, baring her fangs and talon-like fingernails at the threesome as she shot Buffy a sardonic, seductive gaze that seemed to come only natural to the Countess. "Don't knock it 'till you've tried it, honey!"

Blade flicked the safety off his matte-black MACH pistol and cocked it in one hand, katana-like sword drawn and ready in the other. "I've heard just about enough of this shit—let's dance."

"Wholeheartedly agreed," Alucard said.

The vampiresses moved fast... only Blade moved faster. His MACH pistol blasted out a drumbeat of death. The garlic-tipped dumdums smashed into into one of the creatures' faces, exploding on contact, dropping the unlucky young girl attempting to leap at him in her tracks. The body incinerated into a swirling cloud of black ash that sifted across his boots as it cascaded down upon him.

Alucard turned, tracking all the vampires in the room. His life, as with his companions', was measured in the heartbeats as he maintained control of the situation. His Crissaegrimm Sword stopped as it slashed through flesh and penetrated bone above the young vampiress beneath him cringing on the stone floor. Alucard didn't hesitate, slashing at every target thereafter. Bullets from Blade's MACH pistol tore through the vampire flesh of a girl beside him, black blood spattering across his face as they shredded another Undead life right before his eyes to ash. Blade was good, he had to give him that.

Blade's pistol blew back empty, but the number of vampiresses had dropped to two—just the Countess and one last girl. With the roll of gunfire silenced for a moment, the vampiresses grew braver. Blade, at least, knew it would. It amused him to see them regrouping like the predators they were, thinking they could take him and his two friends down. Probably most of the bloodsuckers, like the rest they had run into, had only heard of him at best, certainly never been around any of the firefights he'd engineered in his career.

As Alucard leapt back into action and Buffy, vigilantly flanking both men, used her martial arts prowess to stay out of range of the action and took another potshot (less lucky—she missed) with her shotgun at one of the vampiresses, Blade swung hid assault rifle up. His thumb grazed the arming button for the spotter scope mounted atop the weapon. It wasn't the usual ruby laser preferred by many police and military units as a deterrent to continued aggressive behavior. The light emitted from the spotter scope was UV ultraviolet, the best part of the sun in Blade's opinion, though the writhing vampiress he targeted seemed to beg the differ as he trained his aim on her. Before he could pull the trigger and claim his victory, however, a loud buckshot sounded and the girl's head exploded in a flurry of skull and brain. Blade turned an annoyed gaze at Buffy, who stood behind the smoking barrel of the shotgun he'd given her.

"Aw, steal your kill?" Buffy teased, a smile on her otherwise serious face. "So sorry, Blade."

Blade couldn't help but chuckle. "No problem, blondie... and... not bad. Just watch my back."

With that, only the Countess Bartley was left, and Alucard seemed to have already claimed her as his and his alone. His Crissaegrimm Sword clashed with sparks back and forth in a fierce one-on-one mêlée with the Countess against the ornate dueling sword of French design she wielded in her defense.

"It's not too late, Master Alucard," Bartley spoke with gritted teeth. "Dracula will still take you back at his side... you're his son."

"My father died in the marshes of Bucharest defending the kingdom of Wallachia in 1476... the man you serve is a vampire madman with delusions of grandeur and mad with power. I must reject your offer, Lady Bartley, and bid you a very fond _adieu."_

"Why y—"

Alucard cut the conversation short with a final, expertly-placed decapitating swing of his Crissaegrimm Sword that penetrated her defenses and struck home. Bartley collapsed on her knees, the head sliding off her neck before her body buckled over.

Buffy walked over, giving Alucard a look of approval, planted and kicked into place both a stake into the torso and head of the fallen Bartley. As both body parts disintegrated, the battle was over. Gathering themselves and making sure the coast remained clear, they exchanged a look.

"Buffy... Blade... Prepares yourselves," Alucard said. He pointed a finger at the wooden door above them, at the end of a small rise of ten stair steps. "Dracula awaits."

Blade nodded. Besides reloading his MACH pistol he had in addition to his Indian-style katar dagger, and katana-esque sword, he fastened his six-point adjustable body armor and readied the assault rifle he carried strapped over his shoulder muzzle-down; Buffy prepared the customized sawed-off Mossberg shotgun Blade had given her, loading seven shells, then cocking it once to load an eighth in the chamber. Blade removed the bandolier of silver stakes he bore around his neck, giving a handful of them to Buffy to supplement the oak variety she already had at her disposal.

"Ready here," Blade affirmed. "You ready, Buffy?"

"Ready as I'll ever be," Buffy replied, putting a little pep in her voice.

"Then let us begin, then."

Steeling themselves, the three proceeded up the stairs and stood to each side as Alucard opened the door at the top. Opening it, they ascended a final flight of stairs under the darkness of the night sky and light of the moon before reaching one last door. Opening it, they found themselves in a high-ceilinged chamber adorned with various Romanian decorative paintings and murals, each depicting either historic battles, Romanian heroes, or Prince Dracula himself. In the center of the room, draped with red cloth, lay a polished onyx coffin. As the door slammed behind them of its own avail, the coffin sprung open and the rising figure of a man arose.

Resplendent in his Toledo cape and cloak as he stood away from the coffin of his disturbed slumber, the awakened Count Vlad Dracula greeted his three guests with an icy glare of the purest malevolence. "Alucard... Adrian, my son, greetings. I see you have brought company." Dracula's gaze hesitated on Buffy, recognizing the youth from their previous, brief confrontation back in October.

Alucard nodded respectfully. "I have, Father."

"I have been expecting you."

"I know."

"Have you come on this glorious New Year's Eve, the eve of the Third Millennium, to perhaps witness the coming of my absolution, just minutes away?" Dracula began a dignified pace, keeping his narrowed eyes focused on the three. "No, I should think not. I should think, instead, that you three have invaded my castle and infiltrated the sanctity of the chamber in which I rest... to attempt to stop my absolution. And slay me."

"This is true, Father, and you know the reasons. I cannot condone your actions over the past centuries... moreover, I cannot let it continue any longer."

Dracula gave a heavy sigh, folding his arms behind his back in a showing of disappointment. "I thought since last we fought in 1797 you might have come to the good senses to change your mind, but I see that is still not possible. A shame. Here, on the verge of my absolution. The Legend of CastleVania is finally at an end... legend is about to become sweet reality... for all of time."

"You're right about one thing, Father," Alucard said, a more challenging note creeping into his tone. "The Legend of CastleVania _is_ about to end... only it will be doing so with your final death and your castle's destruction." Alucard smiled, if only to annoy his father. "I know the rules of your centennial resurrections, Father. Since the fifteenth century in accordance with your 'deal' with Death, CastleVania and yourself resurrected every hundred years if not resurrected by outside means or persons..."

"You know nothing of my dealings, boy," Dracula snarled. "Since the _Crusades_ I have been tearing through the centuries... you do not even know my true name!"

Alucard didn't falter. "This 'deal,' however, comes with a caveat, does it not? The coming of the Third Millennium. If the year 2001 comes while you are resurrected and you are struck down... it is forever. 2001 is your 'deadline,' as it were."

Dracula first seemed caught off-guard at his son's words, but quickly regained his composure. "It seems you are most correct, my son, but let one not forget... if the year 2001 comes and I stand alive and unchallenged... deliverance—the Undead immortality of myself and CastleVania becomes absolute. I become vampyre without weakness... a Daywalker like yourself and your friend, Blade, though invincible to both mortal and vampyre harm. My power will grow unabated until I am _truly_ the Prince of Darkness, the King of the Vampyres." Dracula reached a hand to Alucard. "It's not too late, Adrian. You can stand with me in these glorious days... stand beside me, and we shall usher in a new age with the coming of the Third Millennium—a Golden Age all our own, father and son."

"I'm afraid my answer stands, Father."

As if in response to Alucard's words, Dracula drew his ancestral Toledo Blade—the same blade that had belonged to his father, Prince Vlad "Vlad the Great" Dracul II—from its sheath at his hip.

As Buffy and Blade looked on, Alucard again drew his Crissaegrimm Sword and engaged his father. In turn, Dracula launched himself forward and swung his Toledo Blade at once, bringing the sword around in a blinding arc that would have taken his son's head off.

Only Alucard wasn't there when it arrived. In a whirl of cape, he flipped back out of reach, avoiding the deadly blade by less than an inch. He came down on his hands, pushed, and tried to regain his feet, only to be met with a kick to the midsection. Recovering, he spun to face Dracula, bringing his Crissaegrimm Sword into the en gardé position. He blocked the next sword swing, sparks crashing as steel rang on steel. Then he riposted, ripping the sword through the air only inches in front of his father's face.

"You've grown in skill, my son," Dracula said, turning the sword aside. "A fine general in my army of Undead you would have made."

"It isn't over yet, Cronqvist," Alucard said, pulling back.

Dracula gave his best sardonic smile. So many lies had escaped this creature's mouth over the centuries, so much deceit, and villainy. "And I liked it so much when you call me 'Father.'"

Giving a short cry, Alucardvaulted forward and swunghis sword.

No matter how fast Alucard pushed himself, Dracula seemed to get faster. It was like the vampire Count was plugged into an unending source of energy, a source perhaps stemming from the proximity of the New Year, only minutes away now. Alucard started taking more chances, trying to slip the sword and score. Dracula brought the sword down on his shoulder, cutting deep into the muscle and bone.

"Alucard!" Buffy cried.

A smile twisted on Dracula's dry lips. "First blood is mine, Adrian." Another swing of his Toledo Blade sent Alucard's own sword clattering across the chamber. Dracula reared back, preparing to deliver the death blow to his son.

"Not so fast, Count!" Buffy shouted, startling the Count. Somersaulting herself between Alucard and Dracula, she engaged her enemy hand-to-hand. Delivering a series of well placed kicks, punches, and jabs, she fought the ill-prepared Count toe-to-toe. After a final backhand that seemed to lay Dracula on the ropes, she drew one of the silver stakes Blade had given her, brought it back, and prepared to seize the opportunity to drive it home.

"A commendable effort, fleshling... but precious little more," Dracula seethed. With unearthly speed and strength, the Count reached out, grabbed Buffy's arm, pried her fingers open, wrenched and hurled the stake away from her, then bore his fangs and leaned in for the kill.

Blade dove into the fray, shoving Buffy out of the way and taking a swing at the Count with his sword that caught him across the collarbone and chest. "C'mon, mother fucker—let's see what you got!"

Dracula reared back, backstepped a few feet, then drew himself up to his full height as he again readied his Toledo Blade. "This is not your fight, Daywalker... but I will gladly end your suffering existence nonetheless."

In an explosion of smoke and mist, the Count vanished, then reappeared right before Blade. In a more intense version of the mêlée between Alucard and Dracula, Blade and Dracula clashed swords. Early on, the Count managed to sneak in a slash that cut through Blade's armor and pierced his shoulder.

Controlling the pain the way Whistler had taught him, too, knowing that the wound was part of the risk he had chosen to take, Blade rose to the challenge. He didn't think about the sword's movement anymore—he became the movement, became the blade itself.

There was no fear, no hope, no friends, and no enemies. There was only the blade and the unforgiving net of steel he wove around himself.

Sparks jumped along the lengths of both swords, grating hisses of razored edges echoed around them.

Blade parried and riposted, blocked and slashed, cut and thrust. Dracula's defense was immaculate, a perfect rhythm to everything Blade had to offer. Blade's lungs ached, burned from their need for oxygen. Salt from his own perspiration stung his eyes.

He concentrated on the voice. He was movement, perfect and pure, better than anything Dracula could ever be.

Unexpectedly, Dracula drew himself away from the action for a second time. He thundered at his three opponents in a coarse, deepening voice that seemed to fade into silence as he spoke, "Now, fleshlings, **feel _true_ power!"** With that, Dracula disappeared into another gust of mist. When he reappeared this time, however, he was not his familiar self... he was... something else.

Nearly fifteen feet in height, Count Dracula had morphed himself into an imposing Devilish creature with gray-blue skin, cat-pupiled eyes, and coiled coal-black, ram-like horns. He peered down at the three, looking as if he was considering simply squashing them where they stood. He stomped his foot and belched a salvo of three fireballs, forcing the three vampire hunters below to go on the evasive.

As Dracula reared his great head back in a fit of hoarse laughter, Alucard and Blade exchanged a meaningful glance as they saw their opening in a flash. Both men nodding, they made a sprint toward the massive figure of the Count, their respective swords drawn.

**"What is thi—"**

As both men leapt into the air with their weapons outstretched, Blade's sword connected with the Count along the neck; Alucard's sword connected with the Count along the waistline. As if a final touch to the deathstroke, Buffy laid and athletically punt-kicked into place a silver stake into Dracula's ribcage above his heart.

As the three combatants were finished with their grim task and killing blows, the quivering figure of Count Vlad Dracula was left shaking on his legs, which seemed to be apt to give way on him at any given moment. **"No... no, this cannot _be..."_**

"Thought you knew, be-atch." A short, contained burst of silver-tipped bullets from Blade's MACH pistol rained across the Count's face and chest, the final, perhaps merciful stroke to his end. The head separating from its neck and torso separating from its hips from Blade and Alucard's earlier sword strikes, Count Dracula collapsed into a quivering, disintegrating heap of black blood, gore, and smoking ruin. As the Count's death throes came to a cease, there was little left to look at.

As it finally began to set that the conflict was over, the three gathered themselves, then reconciled.

"My thanks to both of you," Alucard said in solemn gratitude. "You both performed admirably, above and beyond anything I expected of you. Dracula's Curse has been lifted—forever. And now..." his voice lowered with his gaze, "... now, perhaps my father's spirit can rest."

"Yeah, it's been real," Blade said, somewhat flippantly.

"We now have one last problem..." Even as Alucard spoke those words, the floor on which they stood was beginning to shake with an increasing intensity. "We haven't much time—CastleVania's walls will crumble now to the earth and the nether realms... for the final time."

Buffy harrumphed. "I'm assuming we don't want to be inside while this is happening...?"

"A wise assumption that would be, Ms. Summers. I shall meet you two on the outside."

As the two men of the trio began their escape, Blade on foot and Alucard morphed into the agile form of a wolf, Buffy spared a look back at the pool of black blood that had once been the regal Count Dracula, then at her wristwatch. It was 12:00 A.M. on the dot, January 1st of the year 2001.

A grin spread across her young face. "Happy New Year's, Dracula."

After Buffy passed, Blade sauntered by the remnants of the Count, harrumphed, and offered a flippant, "Happy trails, mutha fucker."


	6. Epilogue

**"CastleVania 2000"  
Epilogue**

**Henri Coandă International Airport, Romania  
January 1st, the year of our Lord 2001 A.D.**

Buffy Summers shook the hand of Alucard, a handshake that quickly became an emphatic hug. To Blade she exchanged a handshake as well, though it seemed more of the "gangsta shake" variety, complete with finger-snapping at its conclusion. She smiled warmly at both, knowing that this was where their parts would inevitably be parting.

"It pains me to lose the company of you two," Alucard spoke. "And to think, just when you two were starting to get along..."

"Ain't no thing..." Blade could only keep himself from grinning broadly. "Buffy's all right. I don't know how they do things in Sunnydale, but I'm sure she takes care of herself okay."

"You're not so bad yourself there, Blade," Buffy interjected.

Alucard turned his gaze to the leather-clad Blade. "Now, Blade, I take it you're off to...?"

"New York," Blade answered. "Figure I might take the next few days to recuperate at 'home'... get everything together in my head and spend a little more time in the gym, maybe work on the 'ol Charger."

"And then what? Back to business?"

Blade nodded. "Yeah, if that's what you want to call it."

"And you, Buffy, you're going straight back to Sunnydale, California, is this correct?"

"Yeah, that's correct. Back to the innocent college girl by day, Vampire Slayer 'Chosen One' by night routine, I suppose." The young girl sighed, brushing a strand of blond hair from her eye. "It'll be hard to live this one down, though... the creeps in my neck of the woods are... well... domesticated next to what I've fought with you guys. I mean, for Christ's Sake, in the past couple days we fought the fricking Grim Reaper himself and Count Dracula!"

"So it would seem," Alucard acknowledged. "I was pleased to see that with our combined efforts we were able to do what you... neglected to in your previous encounter with my father in September."

Buffy made a grimace, grunting. "Rub in my failings a little more bluntly, why dontcha?"

"Only mentioning..."

"But anyhoo, what about you, Alucard?" Buffy asked, changing the subject on a more serious, concerned note. "What will you do? My god, must be a lonely life you have."

Alucard's gaze traveled down to the floor. "I... make do."

Blade laid an understanding hand on Alucard's shoulder. "In this world, a man can only count on himself."

Buffy scolded herself for not realizing—both Blade and Alucard understood quite well. Buffy's life at least had an illusion of ordinary about it—she had a boyfriend, a school she attended regularly, and a social circle of friends. Yet the lives of both men before her were no less lonely than the other, no one but themselves to be there for one another in their crusade against the Undead. For Alucard it could only have been worse... he'd lived centuries with the loneliness, whatever solace he might have found with the Sonia and Maria characters from ages ago he mentioned earlier only being temporary distractions from the fact. On the other hand, maybe the passing centuries gave Alucard a better perspective and sense of coping with it than Blade, who was only too ready to go right back to the lone "business" of vampire hunting. Buffy envied neither man.

"It would seem this is goodbye, then," Alucard said, hearing a woman's voice announcing Buffy and Blade's flight on the P.A.. Their flight would take them first to New York, then Buffy would be catching a different one to Los Angeles, California, and then Sunnydale. "It has been a pleasure... Blade, Buffy."

Blade smiled again. "Like I said... it's been real."

As a parting gesture, Buffy gave Alucard a brief kiss on the cheek. "Take care of yourself, Alucard."

"Please, milady..." Alucard took Buffy's hand and, in a gentleman fashion, kissed it lightly, "... call me Adrian. Oh, and before I surely forget..." Alucard reached within his cloak, retrieving a small, tightly-wound bundle of what appeared to be some kind of thick leathery cord.

"What is..."

Alucard shot her an ambivalent, perhaps even so far as smug expression. "... the Vampire Killer whip, enchanted by the Poltergeist King. Your ancestral birthright, being of Belmont bloodline and Slayer." He chuckled to himself. "Apart from that, I rather doubt it's Blade's style. Julius would want you to have this."

Buffy, unsure of how to react to the gift of the sacred, even _legendary_ weapon, could only nod in gratitude. To be honest, she couldn't wait to give the thing a whirl on her next "night out."

With that, they departed, a fond sense of camaraderie between the three that had faced the Prince of Darkness and walked away from it. At the very least, it had been a New Year's to remember, make no mistake.

----

It has been five years since the Slayer, the Daywalker, and Alucard slain Dracula. He remains slain to this day.

There was one instance in New York City just last year, Blade and a couple of others tangled with... something that was believed to be Dracula, "Drake." A vampire by the name of Danica Talos and her cronies had unearthed a body in Iraq they brought back to America they believed was him... taking known evidence of Dracula, it seems safe to conclude this was not Dracula himself but rather a similar creature, a more primordial vampyre creature, one that may even pre-date the real Count Dracula.

Hopefully, gentlemen and ladies, we can at last close the book on the Legend of CastleVania. Lord knows, I'll drink to that.

- **Rupert Giles, Watcher  
November 10th, 2005**

**  
**


End file.
